Photo: Carrie Sherburne
I surprised absolutely nobody yesterday when I tweeted that I am going to continue coaching. It's been almost eighteen months since Calene was diagnosed with a rare cancer. You never know what's going to happen with a Stage IV situation. So as we got used to waiting rooms filled with other cancer patients and the wonderful nurses administering chemo, it just made sense to step away from anything that prevented me from focusing on getting her better. Spending two or three hours a day with a bunch of high school distance runners seemed like an easy thing to cut. I had a few quiet discussions to let people know my intentions, telling the school I was going to leave.
And I meant it. It was supposed to happen at the end of this cross country season. State Meet, end of season banquet, then BOOM, call it a career. Irish exit.
I've coached some sport or another since my oldest son, Devin, began T-ball at age five. He's now thirty-three. I fulfilled a lifelong dream when I began coaching distance runners in 2005. It's my belief that a writer can't — SHOULDN'T — sit at their desk ten hours a day. It's not mentally or physically healthy. Plus, having an appointment at the track gives structure to my work day. I know when I need to stop writing and get in the car to head to practice, where I stand in the sunshine, click a stopwatch, and yell at children.
If you've ever been a caregiver, you know there is nothing you can do to make cancer go away. The doctors do all that. Being a caregiver is exhausting because you desperately want this person you love so much to heal. But it's a mindset, not a task. As we got used to the chronic nature of cancer, with its frequent doctor visits, side effects, and startling way that it comes to feel normal, it became obvious I needed an outlet to make sure I was mentally strong. Day drinking is not the answer, nor is hovering over Calene to refill her water glass and retrieve her reading glasses. She's got cancer but she rides the Peloton, walks Dana Point Harbor, and goes to pilates a few times a week. She's incredibly badass.
I thought it was going to be a surprise when I told people I wanted to keep coaching. Didn't fool anyone. "I knew it!" was a common response. There were also the eye rolls from people who see the utter joy on my face as the sun rises over the track during a morning workout. This cancer thing isn't going away anytime soon and I'm pretty sure I'd drive Calene crazy if I hovered over her every minute of every day in my attempts to meet her every need. This morning, she even told me to stop talking about not coaching.
I keep wondering if there's a book in all this, but there's not. It's just life: cancer, coaching, and the constant search for hope.